


Devotions

by Madtom_Publius



Series: Laurens Lives AU [4]
Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Happy Ending, Laurens Lives AU, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Content, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madtom_Publius/pseuds/Madtom_Publius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurens and Hamilton spend a night at an inn while Laurens is on his way home to South Carolina. Getting out from under Alexander's father-in-law's roof allows them to resolve some things that had been unresolved in the previous story. John is still having some body-image issues and his ever-present self-loathing, but other than that everything that happens here is very healthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devotions

It had been over a year since they’d last had this opportunity, yet to Laurens it seemed a world ago. They’d been soldiers then, in the heat of a campaign for liberty, and Hamilton’s wife had been merely an inconvenient abstraction to be ignored, not a wonderfully sweet, understanding woman who had treated him with the most touching friendship. And, of course, it was before John’s faith in himself had been so totally shattered and long before he had resolved to no longer be someone he was ashamed to face in the glass. He had yet to determine where his dear Hamilton fit in with that resolution. But it had been over a year since they’d been able to express their devotion through action, and there was no way to know when they would next be able to do so, for Alexander would turn back for Albany (and his wife) tomorrow, and John would continue southward.

His sojourn in New York had been so chaste that he had begun to wonder if Eliza, with her lovely figure and dazzling eyes, really _had_ managed to cure her husband of his less wholesome appetites, or if he'd managed to become repulsive in his own right. But when a lull came in their conversation as they sat on the single bed in their room at the inn, Alexander had brought their lips together, and such a kiss could never have been mistaken for brotherly. John responded hungrily, for it had been a year and a half since he’d been able to truly embrace him with such honesty.

They didn’t speak, for in such cases words were insufficient and one night was hardly enough time to fully discuss such a complicated matter. They took their time, reacquainting themselves with each others’ mouths and letting their hands wander across each others’ bodies as their blood began to quicken. It was an odd change of pace from their previous frantic encounters but then, they had all night, and only tonight before they would separate again for God only knew how long.

John glanced over to make sure the door was latched while Alexander trailed a line of biting kisses down his neck. He did take perverse pleasure in marking him, not that John minded. It would be lovely to not have to stifle himself – Hamilton would certainly like to be flattered in that manner – and even lovelier still not to need to stifle Alexander, but wishes were not horses. Alexander pulled himself into his lap and John ran a hand up his thigh, relishing in the sighs his touch could induce. He inched Alexander's nightshirt up to his narrow hips. Alexander meanwhile had grown impatient with the cloth separating them and threw his nightshirt carelessly onto the floor before leaning in for another kiss. John let Alexander lean back into his arm while he ran his free hand over his body, gazing in wonder at his beauty, which had become muted in memory, but mostly at the smile which spread so freely over his pretty face. Laurens hadn’t seen him smile like that for a year and a half. It was a dangerously seductive smile, driving all hesitations and reservations, all moral qualms and ethical quandaries from his mind and supplanting them with the desire to keep his Alexander smiling like that, to transform his expression into helpless ecstasy, to make him happy. Surely such a desire couldn’t be sinful.

He gasped as Alexander rolled their hips together and grinned, laughing softly. The first time such laughter had erupted from Hamilton during their amours, John had thought it was meant in mockery, but sometimes his charming friend would laugh simply from joy. But when Alexander tried to relieve him of his clothes he recoiled, returning precipitously to earth and the myriad webs of shame and guilt from which he could never seem to free himself. Laurens had never been able to adequately explain why, exactly, the presence or absence of clothes made such a striking difference to his contrary conscience when the outcome was the same either way, but for some reason Alexander’s skin against his own could sear like hellfire. And he had more reason now to not wish to expose his body to his lover.It had been a year and a half since they’d lain naked in each others’ arms, and in that intervening time he had been marked by the war, by his own selfishness and idiocy and failure, and by a persistent and cowardly illness which still lingered in him.

Alexander retracted his hand, used to John’s skittishness, but disappointed nonetheless. “Still so shy, my dear? I thought we were past this.”

John looked away, ashamed. “We were.”

There was more than a hint of exasperation behind Alexander’s fondness. “Then why do you sit there, blushing like a virgin? You know it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

“It is, actually.” Laurens could feel his face beginning to burn. This was a mistake. He should have contented himself with companionship. 

Alexander looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

No, he didn’t understand. He, like so many others, thought John was some sort of hero, and nothing could be further from the truth. He was at best an impostor and at worst… but that was not a conversation for tonight. He wanted this, wanted his lover’s arms around him and his body warm against him, desperately wanted all of the praise and affection Alexander would let fall from his mouth in the heat of passion, and he certainly did not want to trade that for explaining the extent of his shortcomings. So a half-truth would have to suffice. “My wound didn’t heal very cleanly. I’m afraid it left rather an ugly scar.”

Hamilton smiled, much relieved that the problem was less serious than he had feared. “You are worried I shall not find you so handsome as I once did.”

Laurens’ reason was far from inaccurate: the scar was absolutely hideous, and what with that and his body's general decline, he doubted his friend would look on him with the same admiring lust as before. “Yes.”

Toying with John's ear, he continued to tease, “That I shall find your body repulsive?”

John’s blush deepened. “Perhaps.”

“Deficient, even?”

“Alexander, please.” This had never been a laughing matter to Laurens, and he could only tolerate so much mirth at his expense in this regard.

In a tone that could only be described as obscene, Alexander relented, “I can assure you, lover, there is no danger of that.”

Laurens only shook his head and persisted. “You haven’t seen it.”

Hamilton turned John’s face towards his own. “How could a mark you received in the service of your country inspire aught in me but admiration?” he asked, and kissed him tenderly, and John allowed himself to be persuaded, for he could think of no way of explaining that the mark was no blaze of glory, but a reminder of all those he’d injured in his foolishness, those whom he’d needlessly led to their deaths. He let Alexander remove his nightshirt without protest, for he had longed for his touch, let him once again lift his mind out of the world to the plain where there was only them, only this.

The dream was broken by Alexander’s sharp intake of breath. John didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the source of the horror was the discolored puckering just below his collarbone on the right side of his chest. He shouldn’t have let Hamilton coax him into revealing himself. Alexander seemed transfixed by the scar and ran his fingertips gingerly over it. John grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away. God, he missed the way he used to look at him, the way his neck would blush and his eyes would go wide… though perhaps he should be glad; if his lover found him repulsive, there would be an end to the less holy aspect of their connection. Alexander looked up, startled by his reaction. “I tried to warn you.”

“No, John, I don’t think you’re ugly, it’s just…”

Laurens shook his head. “I don’t want you looking at it.” He leaned in to kiss his friend on the nose. It made sense that he would be shocked upon seeing it, and he believed him, that he still thought he was handsome. It was vain that he should care, he ought to worry more about whether Hamilton could still think him honorable, but it was reassuring nevertheless.

Alexander closed his eyes and claimed his lips again. “I’m not looking now.” But if Alexander needed to shut his eyes in order to make love to him, that was hardly going to assuage his doubts. He needed to feel that his friend wanted him, desired him, he wanted to feel this encounter was the result of passion, not habit or friendship or, God forbid, pity, and, selfish as it was, he needed to feel that Alexander had in no way been cured of his former fondness for without him, Laurens would be utterly alone. He wanted to feel his eyes burning into him, not wonder if they were shut out of courtesy or revulsion. And there was a way for Alexander to still gaze at him without also staring at his new deformity.

John maneuvered himself until he was kneeling facing the headboard so that Alexander was behind him and pulled the lightly freckled arms around his waist. It was reminiscent of their more innocent embraces, with Alexander wrapped warm around him, but they were miles from those early days. There was a nip at his ear and he gasped, relaxing against Hamilton as those lips, so tender, so adept, continued down his neck and his nails traced along his abdomen. There truly was nothing else in the world that could make him so thoroughly forget himself as Alexander’s kisses. He could believe that the universe consisted of only him and this remarkable man who had somehow wormed his way into his soul, that there was nothing beyond the open mouthed kisses travelling down his back and the fingers teasing along his hips and thighs, and if there was only this, then he could let a soft groan escape when he felt Hamilton’s tongue on the small of his back… and God, he loved the way that smile, the one that was at once smug and almost childishly pleased, felt against his skin.

Delicate fingers worked from his hips to his rump, and he tensed when one of them pushed against it’s target. Why his body insisted on being so cowardly and stubborn when he was so determined… what must Alexander think of him? He was glad they weren’t facing each other, that way his Hamilton didn’t have to see his chagrin, and he didn’t have to see the disappointment that must be creeping into those lovely eyes despite the reassuring kisses on his side. He laughed when they tickled at his stomach, the chuckle turning to a surprised gasp when the finger returned, slickened, to tease against him. Though he disliked the necessity of being coaxed into such activities, he minded the process of it not at all. It must, he imagined, be quite frustrating for Alexander, but he could always return such generosity later. Alexander worked gently, making liberal use of the oil, and John was glad that it took much less time for him to warm up to it than it had on his first attempt. He wanted to be taken, to surrender himself like this, to show unequivocally his own devotion and feel Alexander's. Fingers retreated and his whine turned to a moan as Alexander ran his tongue up the length of his spine. They shifted until John could feel Alexander pressing against him.

Alexander hesitated, kissing him again just behind his ear. “May I?”

Nothing else he could have said would have been so completely intoxicating as that request. It humored any lingering skittishness, and there could be no mistaking how desperately Alexander wanted his permission, wanted _him_. John steadied himself against the headboard, his heart racing in anticipation. He could tell, last time, that he'd been holding back, and there was every reason to believe that he would not now feel the need to restrain himself, a thrilling prospect. “Please…”

Laurens let out a sharp moan as his friend pushed inside him, and Alexander sucked hard on his neck to stifle his own noises. Delicate hands moved to his hips, pressing their bodies closer together. Alexander braced himself against the sensation washing over him, running his nose along the nape of John’s neck. He began moving inside him, slowly, at first. Laurens’ breath hitched and he turned his head, trying in vain to reach his Hamilton's lips so that their groans wouldn’t be audible.

Alexander pushed deeper. Good Lord, he loved the way John would gasp and writhe, so different from the way he behaved other times, not trying to take control, not trying to command, to maintain his composure or halt the action entirely. For some reason his dear, capricious Laurens, who could be as timid as a virgin when it came to taking him, was perversely bold once he’d made up his mind to allow himself to be taken. And it was so lovely to have him, and to have him so totally free of doubt. He moved his hand around to grasp him and began to stroke in time to his thrusts.

John’s back arched and he blurted “I love you.”

They’d said many things to each other during the act of passion before, but his Laurens had always saved such professions of deep sentiment for after, and sometimes until well after. And God, there was nothing more intoxicating he could have said, nothing that would have made more clear how true his affections were, how completely he had given his soul. Alexander kissed his ear. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

He moved a hand to his hair, pulling his head back so he could reach the underside of his jaw, kissing the soft, tender skin forcefully, feeling the moan John couldn’t in safety express. “Again.”

“I love you.”

He increased his pace, feeling how utterly defenseless John had made himself against such pleasure, reveling in it. “Again.”

“Alexander…”

“ _Again._ ”

“I…” Laurens’ own gasps kept cutting him off, each motion of their bodies, every kiss or nip sending him into incoherence. And God he was so close.

“John, please.”

He let his head fall back against Alexander's shoulder as his climax rushed through him. After a shuddering breath he finally managed, “ _I love you_.”

Alexander gripped John tighter, his body limp and trembling from his release, and slid one hand up to rest on the wound below his shoulder, feeling him warm and blessedly alive in his arms. He let his own devotions spill into his Laurens’ ear, pretty phrases turning to a more primal expression as he neared completion, and John reached back to toy weakly with his hair. Moments later Alexander sunk his teeth into his shoulder to silence a scream as his own release was upon him. Laurens yelped slightly at the sensation but clutched his friend tighter lest he mistake the sound for one of pain.

They collapsed onto the pillows, exhausted with pleasure and kissed, Alexander exploring John's mouth as if he’d no acquaintance with it before. Lingering kisses and caresses became drowsier as they drifted towards sleep. John wrapped an arm about Alexander, who had curled against his chest. “Nothing in this world, my dearest Laurens," he murmured, "could ever cure me of my devotion to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> originally authored by madtomedgar.tumblr.com  
> originally posted at: http://publius-esquire.tumblr.com/post/49660229078/happy-late-birthday-publius-this-is-lams-au


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